Experiment
by ApolloNico24601
Summary: I didn't know why I was there. I wasn't insane, was I? Well if I wasn't then, I am now. Thanks to the Scarecrow. Plz Review! Probably one-shot.


**Inspired by a nightmare. Probably a one-shot. Plz share your thoughts *review* :) I don't own Batman.**

I gritted my teeth and pulled hard against the handcuffs that dug into my wrists. Blood leaked from the raw skin and dripped from my fingertips onto the cold white floor. Pat. Pat. Pat. I exhaled loudly, glaring at the door. I didn't even know why I was here. They didn't seriously think I was crazy did they? As I took in my surroundings - white, partly stained walls, a tiny barred window, a security camera in the corner - it appeared they did.

I'd been smuggling drugs into the country for extra money. What other choice did I have? There weren't exactly loads of well paid jobs lying around. I knew that Falcone was the main drug dealer around Gotham, but I didn't know he was directly involved in this shipment. So naturally, when the police showed up he scarpered. I guess that showed the risks you had to take just to keep the rent.

It was well-known that most criminals in Gotham gave the insanity plea and, due to the corruptness of people in high places, they got let off. But I didn't plea for insanity! In fact, I didn't even get a trial at all!

"Hello?" I called to the empty room, my voice bouncing off the walls, reflecting mockingly back at me.

I'd been sat here for so long I'd actually started to question my own sanity. I mean, most people who were insane were convinced they weren't right? But I was pretty sure I couldn't hear voices in my head or anything. Maybe I was just super clever and they were scared that I was going to become an evil genius.

_Yeah you wish, you're so clever you failed RE. No-one fails RE! _

So why the hell am I here then?

_Because you're a retard that's why. _

I was only trying to help my sister!

_Well your really helping her now aren't you?_

I sighed. Maybe I was going mad.

I wasn't doing particularly well in life, but my sister was so low she was working in a brothel. At least I had a proper house of sorts.

_Not anymore you won't. _

They can't take my apartment off me just because some nutcase thinks I'm insane.

_Just watch them._

It would be illegal.

_So are drugs. _

That was different.

_Was it really? _Yes.

_How?_

Suddenly, saving me from my depressing thoughts, I heard keys jangling on the other side of the door. I looked up and stopped tugging at the handcuffs.

"Hello?" I asked again, this time actually hoping for response.

I was greeted with silence.

"I know you're there." I tried, but I wasn't sure if they were.

Then the door swung open and in walked a man in a suit.

_Predictable. _

Then I noticed his eyes. They were cold and unfeeling set above prominent cheekbones, the piercing and icy shade of blue making me uneasy. Despite the chill they sent down my spine, I found it hard to look down. I tore my gaze away and glared at the floor before we could make eye contact. I heard the chair opposite me scrape as someone sat in it. A briefcase clunked as he put it on the table. There was an awkward silence as none of us spoke and I fought the urge to look up at him. Part of me wanted to yell at him for keeping me here, but another part didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making me talk. I mean that was the job of a psychiatrist wasn't it? To talk to people about their problems?

_I could bust your eardrums with the amount of problems I have. _

After about a minute, the silence was becoming uneasy. I could feel his eyes boring into my head.

_Couldn't he just talk already? _

As the silence continued, I started to think he was trying to bore me to death. I wasn't going to look at him, that would let him read the emotion in my face. I tried as hard as I could to keep my posture relaxed, but I was getting seriously frustrated. Why is he being so stubborn?

_Why are _you_ being so stubborn? He could actually help you if you let him._

I gritted my teeth and shuffled slightly, trying not to wince in pain as the handcuffs rubbed against my skin.

"You don't know why your here."

I looked up at him in surprise. His voice wasn't empty and cutting as I thought it would be, it was soothing and kind. His demeanour was open and his hands were clasped on the briefcase on the table in front of him. Despite his apparent understanding, I wasn't convinced. His cerulean eyes were still just as intense but they instead held affection and empathy. I was normally good at judging people, but this man confused me. He was just trying to get me to talk I assumed. I kept my mouth closed. He sensed my lack of trust and sighed.

"We're only trying to help you here." he sympathised.

I couldn't help but scoff.

"If you're trying to help I wouldn't be in handcuffs." I snapped without meaning to. But I couldn't stop now. "And yeah you're right, I don't have a clue why I'm here. I'm not insane if you were wondering, so if you're here to 'cure' me then you're wasting your time. You're all just trying to help, pretending to care. Well I don't want _help._" I finished, leaning forward as far as the handcuffs would let me.

The man pressed his thin lips together into a hard line. He sat up in his chair and flattened his suit absent-mindedly. He looked down at the briefcase - his face looked like it was chiselled from stone.

When he looked up, his eyes were frosty and impatient, a flicker of annoyance evident. I was immediately on guard.

_Maybe you shouldn't have pissed him off..._

"You know," he questioned, staring deep into my eyes keeping my frozen like a rabbit in the headlights, his voice clipped and bitter. "You're probably right. Maybe I am 'pretending to care'. Maybe I am 'wasting my time'. Maybe you're 'not insane'." He opened his briefcase and I strained my neck to see what was inside. "But I'd like to try, a little _experiment._"

I started to look around the room for means of escape.

_You're in handcuffs you idiot!_

Surely he wouldn't do anything when there's a security camera in the room... That's when I realised that the recording light on the camera wasn't on. _Surely..._

The man held up what looked like a burlap sack and studied it, a smug smile on his face.

"You see, people like you. You think that you can _'scare'_ me and _'intimidate' _me with your words." he sneered. "But what happens when you face _real_ fear?"

I figured the question was rhetorical, but I was too confused to answer.

_What the hell is wrong with this guy?_

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The man smiled cruelly, heartlessly.

"You see?" he asked again. "_Real fear. _Do you feel it?"

I was seriously considering calling for help. I squeezed my eyes closed, praying for a way out.

_Coward._

* * *

The young woman opened her eyes only to let out an ear-splitting scream as the odourless gas filled her lungs and poisoned her mind. Black swirls and terrifying faces, shapes, and figures spun around her head. The usually quiet, oppressed man before her had been distorted by the pure fear that flowed through her. Spiders fell from the stitched mouth of the sack that he wore on his half-severed head. His skin had melted and seeped through the fabric of the mask. His glowing cobalt eyes froze and cracked like glass behind the small ragged eye-holes. Blood-curdling screams and haunting voices, pounded in her ears drums as her brain began to shut down under the stress. As she lapsed into a fitful unconsciousness full of horrific distorted dreams, one word, one image was at the forefront of her warped mind.

_Scarecrow._


End file.
